Star Wars: Beauty Amongst the Stars
by moviedragon009
Summary: Stranded in a Galaxy far far away, a young woman is caught up in the battle to defeat an evil empire. But can she find a way to return back home to her enchanted kingdom before time runs out?
1. Chapter 1

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

The stars shimmered and blinked coldly in their perches, the light barely piercing the infinite darkness of the evening sky that blanketed the desert sands below and slowly chilled the surface of Tatooine after a day of burning heat. In these few hours of twilight, however, the temperature was actually surprisingly mild enough for one to walk around outside comfortably, and Luke was going to take advantage of the time as much as he could. Granted there was not much he could do in the short amount of time given, but after a long day of maintaining the moisture farm and repairing the old vaporators, there was only one thing that he wanted to do. That was to lie back and look up at the stars looking down at him.

It was actually sort of a regular thing for him to do when he wasn't shooting at wamp rats or racing his buddies in the speeder. He imagined that gazing up at the constellations in wonder wasn't something people on other, more populous worlds, would do, assuming that interplanetary travel was a regular thing, and that each star up above was merely another destination for a business trip or a vacation. He envied the people who could do just that. He envied them for not having to wonder all the time what it was like to wander through the forests of Kashyyk, sail through the clouds of Bespin, or even stroll through the city ways of Coruscant. He even dreamed of being able to fight in the civil war that was going on beyond this star system; sure he risked getting himself killed, but at least there was the chance to visit a distant world. He, of course, had to imagine such things; it was one thing to read about such things in holo-recordings and hear about them from visiting customers, what he wouldn't give to actually experience them first hand…

Sitting against the domed wall of his aunt and uncle's dwelling, he breathed in the cool, dry air of the late evening and flexed his spine, his seat enjoying the heat absorbed into the earth. He wondered what he would be lucky enough to see tonight before Aunt Beru called him back inside; every now and then there would be a small light zipping across the sky, indicating the presence of a cruiser, but that in itself wasn't very exciting, just another instance of mere traffic. But still, there was the question of where said cruiser had come from, and that could lead to a wide variety of wild theories. There wasn't very much intrinsic value in them, true, but it was still something for mild entertainment.

Sometimes, when the tiny, constant light of a cruiser did sail its way across the dark blue dome above, he quietly wished that it would change course, touch down in front of the Lars farm, and have its crew invite him aboard to take him somewhere far away, someplace he had never been before (which was pretty much every planet he could name off the top of his head) and then some. Was that too much to ask? What he wouldn't give to have something close to that happen…

Just then, there was activity up above, but of a kind that Luke hadn't seen; there were two lights sailing through the sky, a larger one chasing the smaller other, and there were small sparks popping around them. Grabbing his binoculars and pressing them to his face, Luke zoomed in on the lights as much as he could. From what he could tell, the pursuer was large and triangular in shape…an Imperial Star Destroyer, it had to be. The other one was far smaller, dwarfed by the gigantic battle cruiser trailing it, and from the look of it, Luke surmised the vessel to be a Corellian Corvette. Both were firing lasers at each other, though from what Luke could tell, it looked as though the Corvette was not winning. But would it? Was it possible for the people aboard to pull a trick from their sleeves and leave the Imps in the dust? More importantly, what did the Imperials want with that ship? His curiosity was ignited immediately…

"Luke!" the soft, wavering voice of his aunt came warbling into his ears, "Come on inside, there's food on the table!"

"In a minute!" he shouted back, never taking his eyes off of the action.

"Luke, if you stay out there for much longer, you're going to freeze to death!" Aunt Beru warned.

"Just a few more seconds!" he answered, but there was no way a few seconds could possibly satiate his excitement. He had to know how the answer to which of the two would win, that much he knew.

Firing a few more shots at the Corvette, the Star Destroyer closed in on its prey like a shark…and suddenly, the scene had become dark and blurry. Pulling the binoculars away, Luke discovered to his chagrin a whirlwind, turned frigid by the loss of the sun, blasting its way across the desert, pulling the sand and dust high into the air and becoming a great earthy brown cloud of stinging bits and particles.

Partly out of surprise at its surprise appearance and partly out of annoyance at the fact that it had disrupted the show, Luke wondered, where did this come from?

"Uncle Owen!" he shouted as he ran to the entrance, shielding his eyes against the onslaught of flying sand, "Dust storm!"

"Quick, get back inside!" his uncle's voice shouted back at him.

"What about the vaporators?" Luke shouted while trying to make sure he was heard above the howling desert tempest.

"Don't worry about them," Owen replied, "We'll unclog them in the morning! Now get back in here before you choke to death!"

Eager to get out of the sand storm, Luke staggered his way over to the main entrance—but then something caught his attention. In the furthest corner of his peripheral vision, he noticed a brief flash of light, even in the dense cloud of dust. Was it some sort of electrical malfunction, or was some scavenger bold enough—or stupid enough-to raid one of the evaporators in this weather? No, the light had emanated for far too long…

At that point, the wind decided to change direction, blasting Luke in the face and forcing him to turn the other way. And that was when he saw the vague silhouette of a person staggering around in the storm before collapsing to the ground.

"What in the world…?" he muttered. Who could that person possibly be, and why were they all the way out here? Regardless, he felt compelled to go and help the poor soul, and against his better judgment charged forward. He could faintly hear the cries of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru calling out after him, but precisely what it was they said was lost to him, both because of the storm and because he had other priorities at hand.

He reached the person just in time; lacking the time to fully investigate, he instead grabbed the fallen one's unconscious body by the waist, lifted it up, and hauled it back to the entrance—but this time he was upwind, impeding his progress a great deal. Pulling up the hem of his own shirt over his mouth and nose to keep out the debris, Luke trudged on with closed eyes, keeping in mind to walk straight forward and nothing else. At last, he felt his uncle's tough hands pull him back inside, and shut the door behind him, banishing the furious gale outside. Grateful to be back in, Luke pulled down his shirt hem and took in a deep breath, then shook his head furiously, casting out the sand and dust from his hair. He looked up into the eyes of his guardians, where both concern and appalling mixed and mingled.

"Luke Skywalker," Uncle Owen started off, noticeably irritated, "Were you trying to get yourself killed out—who's this?"

Luke only remembered then that he had brought a visitor with him. He looked down at the person in his arms; the stranger was a woman with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that sagged down to the floor, covering her ground-facing face and wearing a very strange blue and white dress, the style of which Luke had never seen before, coated in thick dust and sand.

"I don't know," he explained, "I saw her outside; I don't know where she came from."

"Well, don't just stand there," Aunt Beru said, "Get this poor woman onto the couch!"

Obeying her word, Luke pulled the unconscious woman through the narrow, brightly lit halls of their home and onto a sofa. Turning her over right-side up, he finally got a good look at her…a very long, nigh hypnotized one. Even with her face coated in dust, the young woman was probably the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life up until then, with full lips and rose cheeks on a cherubic face.

Coming up from behind, Beru handed Luke a wet rag, and he set to work wiping away the dirt. However, as soon as the water made contact with her skin, the woman groaned and stirred. She blinked open wide, hazel-colored eyes, and looked at him and Beru in utter confusion.

"It's alright dear, you're safe," Beru said.

"…_Excusez-moi, mais parlez-vous français?_" the woman asked—or at least, Luke supposed that she asked. He didn't understand a word she said, but he could tell that it definitely wasn't Basic.

"I'm sorry dear," Beru replied, clearly just as perplexed as he was but trying to keep up a calming facade, "but I don't speak…Twi'leki."

"Oh, I apologize," the younger woman replied, "I failed to acknowledge the possibility that my hosts spoke English."

English…was that supposed to be another word for Basic? Already this woman was starting to get confusing. Were they all like this?

"Well, you just stay right there, and I'll grab you something to eat," Aunt Beru promised, and she left the room, shouting out, "Owen, next time the Jawas show up, could you get a protocol droid?"

Luke, meanwhile, turned his attention back to the brunette woman before him. "I'm Luke Skywalker," he said, "What's your name?"

"I'm Belle," she said, "Where are we?"

"We're at my Uncle's homestead," he answered.

"Where's that?" she asked.

"Just a few miles south of Anchorhead," he replied.

"…Where's that?" she asked again, looking more confused.

"Out on the Great Chott Salt Flat," he said, growing somewhat more concerned.

"…Where's that?" she repeated.

"Tatooine," Luke said, after a moment of hesitation.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them before Belle spoke again. At first, Luke thought she had finally gotten a grip of where she was…but then came her next words.

"Where's that?" she asked at last, very clearly becoming scared.

"…The Outer Rim," he answered again, then added, "of the Galaxy."

She stared at him disbelievingly, and then turned away, breathing deeply and holding her head in her hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"No, no I'm not," she whispered, "First a castle full of singing and dancing furniture, and now this."


	2. Chapter 2

Belle had barely gotten any sleep during the long nighttime, having been kept awake both by the shock of where she had wound up and by the fear of being swept away to some stranger land than she had been before should she so much as close her eyes. Now that the pale light of dawn was breaking through, she couldn't bring herself to throw off the bed sheets and enter the world beyond…wherever that place was. Tatooine, did the Skywalker boy say?

At least insomnia had given her the benefit of being able to meditate on what happened; while the Lars' had been gracious enough to give her a bed for the night, she heard them say things like 'delirious' and 'delusional' while they had walked away from her room, which might have been insulting had they not been spoken out of concern for her health. Besides, she had been used to hearing those words all the time back in the village—except now they were referenced specifically to her, rather than her father, and this time they came with a sting that, while perhaps not intentional, nevertheless buried itself deep.

Maybe they were right this time, she thought. Perhaps somehow she had contracted some disease and had hallucinated up a mysterious castle in the forest run by live furniture and kitchenware, and ruled by an intelligible, if not civil, animal. It certainly made quite a bit of sense; that whole experience probably would have made for some horrific fairy tale that, for all she knew, had probably read in a book before. Who would have believed her back at the village if she said such things? There was, however, one problem with that particular theory; she remembered it all too vividly, and dreams, not even the kind that shook one awake in the middle of the night, lasted with such veracity. Even now she could remember riding Phillipe, her horse, up to the iron gates, wandering through hallways crawling with demons rendered in stone, finding her father locked in a prison cell, and the Beast…that huge, hunched creature blanketed in brown fur, bearing sharp fangs in a long, ugly snout that bore down on her with those eyes…those bright blue eyes…

No, she couldn't have conjured all that up, not even in her wildest imagination—which, truth be told, could be pretty wild at times. No, she couldn't be the crazy one. If anyone was crazy, these Lars people were, what with all this talk of 'droids' and 'vaporators' and 'Jawas'…perhaps she had simply been transported to some foreign kingdom of sand, and these people were hermits who had lived out their entire lives in isolation, coming up with their own nonsensical words for things. Yes, that had to be it…but then logic kicked in. She had seen that there was no fire to be had in this place for light or for cooking; there were the bright white rectangles of light that hung from the ceiling and could be lit by the flick of a switch, and the bizarre flameless stoves, not to mention the myriad other things that lined the walls and filled the rooms that she had thus far seen. She was at a loss as to explain how these phenomena, while they managed to maneuver themselves with ease and comfort.

So maybe neither she nor this small, English-speaking rustic family she had fallen in with was crazy. As insane as it sounded, all the evidence thus far pointed to her having been in a fairy tale castle to suddenly being transported to a land of sandy desert—a desert world, if she understood properly (what sort of god would create an earth governed by only one topographical feature?). But again, the question remained: how did she get here?

She rolled over onto her left side, and as if in response to her query, she felt something hard push against her leg. Her curiosity was piqued; letting her body fall back onto her spine and pulling herself upright, she reached into her pocket, and felt smooth glass grace her fingertips. Removing the object, she found in her hand a crystal that glowed with its own inner light, though quite dimly. On closer inspection, she could see faint images of a human figure swinging through the air in red and blue and bipedal reptiles racing through verdant jungles …

The memories came back to her in flashes; she had been perusing the towering bookshelves in the library. So many books to choose from, and she didn't know where to start…then she had found the tiny wooden chest that, thank goodness, didn't try to start a conversation. It had opened without much resistance, though clearly having been left to itself for who knows how long…a burst of white…then something spooked her, and she began to fall…her hand clutching on the gems…the world dissolving around her in a shower of shards of glass…replaced by the whirling sand…

Was this small jewel the means of her displacement? It seemed insane…but given all that she had been through, it was a simple enough explanation. Could it also be the means of her return? It didn't seem too out of the question…the real question was how to do it. But how did she get from the castle to this homestead in the first place? Think Belle, she told herself, think back to when it happened…ugh, she couldn't grasp it! That moment had gone by so quickly; all she needed was one tiny piece of the puzzle, and it was lost in a sea of puzzle pieces. She had to figure it out; she had to get out of here…

Then she heard the alien noises down the hallway outside of her door, all the whirring, buzzing, and beeping to be had. She also heard Owen's gruff voice bark out unfamiliar jargon, and Luke's reply in similar jargon; they spoke of things like power converters, star systems, and so many other things. With a slight turn of her head, she could see the beams of sun coming through the blinds to her room, and was indirectly reminded of the outside world, an entire world of sand, like the foreign kingdoms she had only read about in books…

Did she really want to go? Wasn't this what she had always wanted; to find some adventure out there in the great wide somewhere? If she understood correctly, she was just about as far from home as she could fathom, perhaps even more so, and the Beast's castle hadn't been more than a day's journey away from the cottage she called home. What more could she ask for? Here was a shipload of opportunity for acquiring new knowledge, experiencing new things, and seeing sights and wonders that she had only begun to realize were possible…

_What about your word? _A small, quiet voice asked her.

That's right…she remembered her word to the Master of the Castle. When she had given it, there was nothing more she would have liked to do than to find some loophole to escape and return home, but after two months or so…she had begun to see things differently. The Beast had begun to change while she had been there, he had made so much progress…he had even told her his name…

What was he up to now? What sort of panic had she left him in? She couldn't bear the thought; true, it had been an accident, but she had broken her word, nonetheless. Now she had to get back, one way or the other. But how was she to do that? She wasn't making much progress with this gem; that much was for sure.

Then she had an idea. If this was a farm (a farm of what, though?), then there had to be some sort of settlement, nearby, and where there was a settlement…

She then decided what she would do. Surely it would all fall into place.

Climbing out of bed and putting the jewel back into her pocket, her bare feet touched down on the cold, grooved metal floor and she began to move through the rounded tunnel-like halls towards the source of the voices. To her surprise, she found herself standing in a round, open area deep within the orange earth, where potted plants of unique species were perched near large round windows, and where two constructs decked with antennae and other odd parts stood as a centerpiece. She spotted the gruff, grizzled Owen dressed in tan and brown and the homely Beru, in subdued blue and red clothing across from him at a table, sitting over a scant meal.

They greeted her first. "Morning, Belle," Owen said, "Up late, aren't you? Come here, take a seat."

She made her way over and curtsied politely before sitting down. "_Bonjour, monsieur, madame,_" she said,_ "_My apologies for my behavior, last night; I must have become quite delirious." True, she didn't like applying that word to herself, but what choice did she have? She might as well curry some sympathy with them.

"Well, what happened, exactly?" Beru asked.

Belle replied with something that was not quite a lie, but not quite a truth, either. "I'm not sure, really; all I know is that I was in one place, and then I was in another. It's not quite clear to me, yet."

"Well, you're lucky you stumbled upon us when you did," Owen remarked, "The Sand People might have gotten you first and eaten you…or worse."

"Are you from off-world, then?" Beru asked.

"Yes," Belle said, as much as it awed her to say it, "and I'd like to return home very much. Is there a mode of transportation I can take?"

"Well, the Mos Eisley spaceport's a good place to start," Owen answered, "Here's hoping you've got the credits to pay for a ride, though."

Credits…that had to be another word for money…something she realized that she was lacking in. But maybe there was a way to earn some.

"I…I seem to have lost mine out there in the desert," Belle lied, "But if it's not a great inconvenience, I would be more than willing to work here, just long enough to earn some money to pay for the trip. I've worked on my father's farm, so…"

Owen started to sit up in protest, but Beru beat him to the punch. "Do you know how to patch up and operate a moisture vaporator?"

"I can learn," Belle replied, "It shouldn't be too hard." She managed to put on a façade of confidence, but inside she began to quake. Could she learn how to operate a vaporator? Could she even figure out what in the world a vaporator was?

"I'm not sure…" Owen grumbled.

"Oh, come now, Owen," Beru protested, "All she needs is half a season's work to pay for a starship flight, and Luke can help her out. Besides, more hands make the job small, right?"

At the sound of 'half a season', Belle felt her heart drop a little bit. Would it really take that long? Did she have that sort of time to spare?

There was a long pause before Owen spoke again. "You get twelve credits a day," he said, "You can start by helping Luke out; he's up working on one of the vaporators right now. He'll show you the ropes."

Elated, though the thought of 'half a season' still weighed her down, Belle bowed slightly in her seat, saying "Thank you," before standing back up. "I'll start right away."

"Be sure to put something more durable on, dear," Beru said, "I've got some clothes that you can borrow."

Nodding, Belle left the two at the table and took off in the direction that Beru had pointed. She could hardly believe her luck, but at least she had started on the road to getting home.

* * *

Having slipped on a tan dress and a blue shirt, along with a white overcoat aged by years of usage, Belle made her way up out of the dwelling and into the burning heat of the sun. At first she was blinded by the desert heat, but her eyes grew used to it, and she was stunned to see miles upon miles of empty flatland, hardly a natural formation or sign of life to be seen, other than the small white towers that dotted the area here and there, though there was a range of barren mountains far off in the distance. She wondered, who could live in a place like this, and how?

After gazing around for a bit, she spotted a figure in white and tan hunched over in front of one of the towers, reminding her of her father hard at work on one of his inventions back home. She made her way over to him, and was surprised to find her brow already specked with beads of sweat after only twelve paces. It felt like she had stepped too close to a roaring furnace in this place…

She made her presence aware to him, and he looked up in surprise. "Belle!" he said, "What are you doing out here?"

"Your Aunt and Uncle asked me to assist you with the farm work," she replied as she arrived, "Owen said I'd have to work here until I raised enough money to buy passage off world." She saw that he had opened up a panel in the side of the tower, and was using a brush to scrub off clumps of sand from a structure that, for some reason, reminded her of the blinds on a window.

"Alrighty then," Luke said. "Is there anything you need to know?"

"Yes, actually," Belle replied, "What's a vaporator?"

Luke turned to give her a confused look. "Wow, you really ARE from off-world, aren't you?" he asked. He shrugged, and slapped the surface of the tower. "This," he said, "Is a vaporator."

"Oh," Belle said, "Well then, what does it do?"

Luke explained to her that the main source of income on this farm came from collecting water and selling it, and the only way to do that was through the vaporators; according to him, these machines drew moisture in from the atmosphere with a super-cooled rod inside the main pipe, where it condensed into water that would run down the pipes into a storage tank below the surface, where it would be sold or used to water the underground crops. "Of course, these things need a lot of attention," Luke continued, "especially after dust storms. So we have to keep working on these things daily. You got that?"

"I think so," Belle replied, "It sounds simple enough."

"So you really are an off-worlder?" Luke asked, "Where're you from? Alderaan? Ord Mantell? Nar Shaddaa?"

Again with all the strange names, she thought. "…Terra," she said, having settled on a familiar name with a twist.

"Never heard of it," Luke replied.

"Well, it is a fairly obscure place," Belle responded.

"Yeah, well, it can't be any more remote than this hunk of rock we're sitting on," Luke said. He briefly handed her the brush to hold for a minute before asking, "Well, what's Terra like?"

"I never really got around much," Belle admitted, "My father and I lived in Palace City before moving to a small village in the countryside, but that's about all the serious travelling I've done." At his insistence, she went on to tell him about winter, spring, summer and fall, and how it affected the farm and its animals, and then she began to reminisce about her father, Maurice, and his love for devising complex machines to make life better. The more she spoke, the more she began to long to return to home, to at the very least see her father again…

"It sounds like you and your father were very close," Luke observed.

"You could say that, yes," Belle said.

"I never knew my father," Luke admitted, "He was the navigator on a spice freighter, or so my Uncle says. I think he must have died in an accident, or something."

"I'm so sorry about that," said Belle.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Anyway," Luke continued, "Terra sounds like a really nice world. It's almost like the Empire never touched it."

"The Empire?" Belle asked. She hadn't quite heard of a domain that was simply called 'The Empire'. "I…don't really see a reason why they should."

"From what I've heard, the Imps don't really need a reason to make people miserable," Luke said, "Everyone thought things would be great when it took the Republic's place after the end of the Clone Wars; one big strong leader with an army under his belt could keep things from falling apart. But honestly, they're just as bad, if not worse. They do horrible things to people that step out of line."

"That's terrible!" Belle stated.

"I know. But I've heard that there's a rebellion going on out there; people are starting to fight back." Luke then shut the panel door on the filter and stood up, saying, "and one of these days, I'll get off this rock and join them…assuming my uncle doesn't keep me on the farm forever."

"I don't think he will," Belle responded, "You look old enough to strike out on your own."

"Nineteen years old," Luke specified, "and yet Uncle Owen keeps treating me like I'm ten." He then sighed, "You know, you should consider yourself lucky to visit another world, even if it's some Outer Rim junkpile like this one."

She shrugged cautiously. "We should move on to the other vaporators," she said.

Luke agreed, and they set off for the next one, but as they went, Belle took another look at her surroundings. Whatever the duration of a season was, she had the bad feeling that it would be a long one…


	3. Chapter 3

Cleaning up moisture vaporators turned out to be a much more arduous task than Belle had initially estimated, not because of the task's complexity, but because of the quantity. Only after six hours in the baking heat of the sun was the job finished, and Belle could feel the effects of the ordeal gnawing away at her arms and spine, along with the sweat that ran down the side of her face in large drops. As she staggered her way back to the small white domed entrance to the dwelling with Luke, she clutched a spare handkerchief in her pocket and wiped away the salt water. Relieved at the sensation of the dropping temperature, she allowed herself to gaze up into the evening sky…and found herself looking up at two suns, one white and one red, a sight that, while lovely to behold, stopped her in her tracks momentarily. At least now she was finally convinced her that neither she nor Monsieur and Madame Lars were insane.

It didn't do a thing to quell the sense of panic slithering around in the pit of her chest, however. Neither did the plate of strange food that Beru graciously offered to her at the dinner table later that evening (although she had to admit, it did have an exotic quality that she admired, and was enough to satisfy one's hunger. Still, it wasn't French cuisine). With few words said, she retired to her newly designated sleeping quarters, and it was long into the night before she drifted into the quiet comforts of sleep.

It's going to be alright, she said to herself, you'll see. Just a few more weeks of this labor and you'll get home again. This served as her only means of comfort and consolation, the thought of the reward calming her troubled soul…but she prayed more earnestly that, at the end of that time, she could find someone who knew where home was for her.

* * *

Late in the afternoon the next day, she sat cross-legged on her bed, still clutching the white gemstone in her hand, having helped Beru with some housework. Something within her managed to convince a part of her that maybe, just maybe, she could figure out how to work this thing and get back to where she came from…only to be superseded by a deep growl from within the earth, accompanied by a muffled sound of metal and wheels gnawing against each other and tearing the ground apart…it reminded her of her father's inventions, only more refined, and yet more aged at the same time. Her curiosity aroused, Belle slipped her work clothes back on and followed the noise out into the open pavilion, where Beru was watering some of the plants.

"_Excusez-moi, madame_," she said, "What's going on? Where is that clamor originating from?"

"Oh, the Jawas are here," Beru explained, "Luke and Owen are up there to haggle for some droids-which reminds me…" She then looked up towards the rim of the crater in which they stood and called out Luke's name a couple of times before the sandy-haired boy came peering over the edge. "Tell your uncle that if he gets a translator," she instructed, "be sure it speaks Bocce."

"It doesn't look like we have much of a choice, but I'll remind him," Luke called back before running back out of their sight.

Aha! Now Belle had a chance to see what in the world 'Jawas' and 'droids' were, and to finally understand all of this jargon.

"Do you mind if I go up and have a look?" she asked Beru.

"Go ahead," Beru said, "but be careful; those Jawas can be awful creatures, sometimes."

Bowing graciously, Belle made her way up through the stairs, failing to see the grey walking box clunking away. Through the dark cool of the stairway, she entered the bright heat of day, forcing her to shield her eyes as she looked around. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for, and she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of a massive vessel that dwarfed all else (not a difficult feat to accomplish, to tell the truth). Its rough shape reminded her somewhat of a sailing ship, but without the sails, mast, ropes and nets that would label it as such. Covered in thick metal plates turned brown and orange by years of rust and dirt, it sat upon a base made of what she had to assume were wheels of some sort, but unlike any wheel she had seen before, shaped like upside-down trapezoids with the outer perimeter armored in thick, segmented plating. In front of these, Own and Luke walked alongside small men that spoke in high-pitched, babbling tongues while dressed in thick, tattered robes as brown as the gargantuan vessel they stood beside, concealing their figures. Their faces were also hidden beneath pointed hoods. What sort of men were these?

But then something else drew away her attention; the robed creatures were leading Owen and Luke and pointing to a row of bizarre creatures, some resembling men, others spidery creatures and still others of cylindrical shape that stood upon flat legs lacking any visible joints to speak of. All of them, however, seemed to be made of metal or ceramic of some kind.

She ran up for a closer look at these odd things, and to her astonishment, all of them were composed of nuts, bolts, wires and other bits and pieces that made it obvious that someone had put them together like they would a cart or a carriage, and yet all of them moved with a life of their own, beeping, squealing, buzzing, and making a vast array of other strange noises that she couldn't describe. She widened her eyes to drink in all the details that they had to offer, and her jaw hung open as she bowed down to observe them. Maybe Papa would enjoy studying these creatures, she thought; they seemed to somewhat resemble the contraptions he was inclined to build from time to time.

She stopped in front of a white creature with a domed silver head and cylindrical body covered in blue panels and standing upon two stiff looking legs. She could find no neck on it, but its head swiveled towards her like an owl, and it looked up at her with a single, dark eye while a red light flashed right below said eye.

"What are you?" she whispered.

In reply, it whistled and clicked like a bird of some kind.

One of the brown-coated creatures popped right in front of her and jabbed a black, hairy finger at the metal thing, babbling in its wild tongue. She caught a peek of what was underneath its hood, and only saw a pair of glowing golden eyes peering out from utter darkness. She leaped back in both surprise and at the retched smell that emanated from the creature, but it only continued to point and babble.

"My apologies," she said, trying to waft the stench away from her nostrils, "I didn't mean to…"

Luke came up next to her. "You didn't do anything wrong," he explained, "That Jawa's just trying to sell it to you."

"Oh!" she said, grasping the concept, and yet feeling uncomfortable about it. It seemed wrong to her…She turned to the creature and said to it, "Thank you, but I'm just…browsing. I'm not looking to purchase anything today."

The creature threw its hands into the air and stormed off, a whirlwind of incoherent babble trailing behind it.

She looked over to the left and saw Owen standing in front of a man made out of gold…a man mad out of GOLD! How was this possible?! She stood upright and walked over to get a closer look at the creature while Owen spoke to it. It too was made out of discernible parts and pieces, with wires covering the unarmored parts of its torso, while its shining eyes were unblinking in its smooth, nose-less face. Was there some sort of clockwork mechanism inside of these things?

"You," Owen said roughly to the gold man, "I suppose you're programmed for etiquette and protocol."

"Protocol?" the golden man replied with a mouth that spoke without the movement of a jaw. She immediately noted its light masculine voice and refined accent, as if it had come from some far more civilized place than where it now stood. "Why it's my primary function, sir! I am well versed in all of the customs-"

"I have no need for a protocol droid," Owen said as he was about to move along.

Droid…so THAT's what the word referred to! Well now she knew the name of the metal creatures, but what exactly were they?

"Of course you haven't, sir," the golden man said, calling back Owen's attention, "Not in an environment such as this. That is why I have been programmed to…"

"My father owned a protocol droid like you before…a lot like you actually…and it barely did anything useful," Owen interrupted, "What I really need is a droid that understands the binary language of moisture vaporators."

"Vaporators? Sir, my first job was programming binary load-lifters, very similar to your vaporators in most respects."

"Can you speak Bocce?" Owen questioned.

"Of course I can, sir!" the golden man replied eagerly, "It's like a second language to me…"

"Alright, shut up," Owen said. Turning to the Jawa immediately next to him, he said, "I'll take this one." While the Jawa scrambled off to its companions, babbling joyfully, Owen then called Luke over, who was looking over another one of the droids, and said to him and Belle, "Take these two over the garage, will ya?" He referenced the golden man and another droid similar to the blue and white one, only with red panels and a head shaped like a rounded box. "I want them cleaned up before dinner."

"Yes, sir," Belle said obediently. Here she had an opportunity to learn more about these 'droids'.

"Aw, but I was going to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters!" Luke moaned.

"You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done," Owen remarked, "Now come on, get to it."

"Alright," Luke sighed, and then said to the golden man, "Come on."

The golden man followed him as he walked back to the dwelling, and Belle followed close behind, observing how the golden man's legs barely allowed for swift movement, being too stiff in the knee. She heard a sad little moan behind her, and turned to see the blue and white droid turning its head to watch the golden man shuffle away.

"And the red one," Luke said to the other purchased droid. At first it didn't move, but upon further provocation, it too began to follow as it slid along the ground on not two, but THREE legs after them, making beeps and boops as it did.

The blue and white droid began rocking back in forth upon its legs and moving forward, chattering and squealing as it did, catching the golden man's attention before a Jawa approached and pointed something at the droid, stopping it in its tracks.

Belle felt a twinge of pity for this strange little creature. It was clear to her that there was at least some sort of connection between these two. Separating them like this…it all felt so wrong to her. She didn't know what to say at the moment, though.

Suddenly, smoke and flames suddenly spat out of the red droid's head, bringing it to a halt as its noises slowed and died down along with it. The explosion sparked a terrified gasp from Belle. "What happened to it?" she half-yelled, "Is it going to be okay?"

Luke went over to it, rather nonchalantly, inspecting the crippled droid. "Nope, this thing's useless. Uncle Owen," he called out, "This R2 unit's got a bad motivator! Look!"

Belle's jaw dropped at his words. "Are you serious?" she asked, "This creature just DIED, and you're just…just…"

"Belle, cool it," Luke responded, "We could probably fix it if we had the right tools, but we just don't. Goodness knows this place could use an R2 unit."

Belle couldn't believe her ears. The way they were talking about these 'droid' things, she'd think they were discussing something like cattle or equipment…there had to be a logical explanation for all this. She just knew it.

"Excuse me," the golden man said, "But _that_ R2 unit over there," he gestured towards the blue and white droid which now rocked back and forth and squealed excitedly, "is in prime condition; a real bargain!"

Was she really seeing this? The golden man had just basically advertised its fellow droid like a merchant advertising his ware above someone else's! What kind of world had she landed in?

Luke was quick to point out the other droid to Owen, who had been arguing with one of the Jawas over the faulty red one. "What about that blue one?" he said, "We'll take that one."

With that, the Jawa he had been talking to directed two others, who scurried over and hauled the dead droid away. The more and more she thought about it, the more wretched this whole business seemed to Belle as she watched the Jawas drag the body of the red droid away. She couldn't tell why it was that she felt this way; her best guess was that maybe the droids reminded her too much of the enchanted objects at the castle.

"I'm quite sure you'll be pleased with that one, sir," the golden man said to Luke, "He really is in first class condition; I've worked with him before. Here he comes."

The blue and white droid, released from whatever invisible restraint that bound it, now slid across the ground with a newly revealed third leg, beeping and whistling happily as it did. Although how it moved without any visible motion of its limbs mystified her, Belle did feel somewhat better seeing the two droids reunited. With that, Luke led the small group back into the entrance. Behind her, Belle could hear the gold man speaking to the blue and white droid saying, "Now don't you forget this. Why I should stick my neck out for you is quite beyond my capacity."

Coming in back through the stairway, Luke turned to Belle and asked, "Hey, could you take these two to the garage for me? I think I might have left some tools in my bedroom; I'll go get them and be right back."

"Sure," she said, "I can do that…and which way is the, uh…?"

"That way," Luke said, pointing her in the right direction, "Down the hall, and to the right. You can't miss it."

"_Merci,_" she said. While Luke ran off in the opposite direction, Belle checked to make sure the two droids were still behind her (they were, and amazingly enough the blue and white droid had managed to make it down the stairs without any trouble); obediently, they followed her through the open pavilion where she gave a friendly wave to Beru before entering one of the dim tunnels.

Here in the cool air, she felt far enough away from judgmental eyes and ears to ask some questions that had been wandering around in her mind like flies. As they walked along, she turned to the golden man, saying, "Pardon me, but this is probably going to sound like a terribly silly question..."

"Oh, not at all, miss," the golden man said, "It would be my personal pleasure to answer anything you please. You have no idea how liberating it is to meet someone as clearly cultured as you are after such a rough time."

Slightly blushing, Belle said, "Thank you, but um…what ARE you, exactly?"

"I am C-3PO, Human/Cyborg relations," the golden man replied, "and this is my counterpart, R2-D2."

"Well, I'm Belle, and it's a pleasure to meet you, but that's not quite what I meant. I keep hearing the word 'droid' being thrown around; can you define that?"

"Well Miss Belle, as I understand, 'droid' is a shortened term for the word 'android'. The precise definition is a mechanical and/or electronic construct designed and put into service to assist organic life.1 Synonyms include words like 'robot' or 'machine'."

Android, electronic, robot, droid…none of those words made any sense to her, but 'machine' was certainly something she came close to understanding. However, she did get the basic gist of what C-3PO said, which basically confirmed what she suspected: they were slaves. "I've seen other machines," she said, "And you're nothing like them! You can walk and talk, and do things of your own free will…you do have a soul, right?"

"I beg your pardon, but what do you mean 'soul'?" C-3PO asked, tilting his head slightly to the left.

"Well, you know…" Belle mumbled, growing more and more concerned, "That which gives one life, meaning, purpose..."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, Miss Belle," C-3PO said, "but are you referring to our artificial intelligence, or programming, perhaps? I find great joy as an interpreter, myself."

A series of beeps and whistles burst from R2 as they crossed a small bridge through an open space of daylight and into a large indoor space reeking of strong, pungent smells, the floor cluttered with coils, wires, and other things, and several large pieces of equipment lining the walls, which also flashed with numerous colored lights and bore pipes, cables, and other things.

"R2-D2, mind your manners!" the golden droid snapped, "Do you want to get scrapped?"

"Huh?" Belle said, "What did he say?"

"My apologies, Miss Belle," C-3PO said to her, "but he remarked that you seem rather…oh, how to put it…primitive, in your understanding of things."

Belle simply sighed at the remark. Now _she _was the primitive one? Now she was beginning to see how the villagers back home felt when she spoke in terms they couldn't understand…talk about a role reversal.

No no, that couldn't be it! Surely there was some great factor of life that they were missing out on!

"But don't either of you want to be free?" she asked, "Why would you want to live your lives in thankless servitude? There's more to life than this!"

"Frankly, Miss Belle, I'd much rather be safe here than being out there in such deplorable conditions," C-3PO replied, "I'd rather not fall apart so easily."

At that moment, Luke came in, still looking rather glum, and clutching several screwdrivers and other tools in one hand, and a small model of a peculiar vessel that, for all she could tell, looked like it was made to fly…somehow. "Hey," he asked, "What's going on?"

"Miss Belle was discussing topics like 'freedom' and 'souls' with us, sir," C-3PO dutifully reported.

Looking as though he had seen a ghost, Luke said, "Oh, HEY! Look at the time; we need to get you two washed up."

His attempt to change the subject proved successful. "Oh, yes of course," C-3PO said cheerfully, "My servos have never been in greater need of a good scouring before now."

Meanwhile, Luke turned to Belle and whispered, "Are you CRAZY? You can't talk to droids about stuff like that!"

"Why not?" she replied, "They deserve to!"

"Listen," Luke said, "If droids could think, none of us would be around to tell about it. Haven't you ever heard of droid uprisings?"

"Well, um…" Belle stammered.

"Exactly my point. Trust me, it's safer this way."

"But they're SLAVES!"

"No they're not!" Luke said, "They're just tools. Trust me, if you want to talk about real slaves, talk to the Hutts and see what they think."

Before she could say another word, they set to work; Luke managed to find Belle a cleaning rag which she used to wipe away an astonishing amount of dust from off of R2-D2's body. He then directed C3-PO to the top of what at Belle had assumed at first to be furniture; with the push of a few buttons, the spot beneath the gold droid's feet began to sink; the sound and smell of boiling liquid rushed in as well.

"Thank the maker! This oil bath is going to feel SO good," C-3PO sighed as he was lowered further and further in to the bubbling substance, "I've got such a bad case of dust contamination; I can barely move."

The whole time, however, Belle was preoccupied with the thought of the droids having been 'bought' and 'sold'. What kind of place was this where a being could possess a mind of its own and yet be treated like a possession? But then Luke's words about 'Hutts' and slaves came into her mind…were there really people who actually owned other people as slaves? All the marvels around her, and yet slavery in its horrid condition managed to rear its ugly head!

She looked over to see Luke waving the model around in the air, his expression still stricken with that glum, defeated look of his. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"It just isn't fair," Luke groaned as he set the toy down, "Biggs is right; I'm never going to get out of here!"

"Is there anything I might do to help?" C-3PO asked.

"Not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest or teleport me off this rock," Luke answered as he handed Belle a small scraping tool and directed her to some marks on R2's surface.

"I don't think so, sir. I'm only a droid, and not very knowledgeable about such things," C-3PO replied, "not on this planet, anyway. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure which planet I'm on."

"Well, if there's a bright center of the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from," Luke answered.

"I see, sir."

"Call me Luke."

"I see, Sir Luke."

"Just Luke."

As he rose out of the vat, dripping with hot oil, C-3PO took the opportunity to introduce himself and R2 to Luke. Belle, meanwhile, noted, "What are these? Have you been burned?"

"He's got a lot of carbon scoring," Luke noted, seeing the dark spots on R2's otherwise white surface. "Looks like you boys have seen a lot of action."

"With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed that we're in as good condition as we are," C-3PO replied as he stepped onto the open floor, "What with the Rebellion and all."

"Rebellion?" Belle asked, remembering Luke mention something about that the other day.

Suddenly, Luke leapt to his feet. "You know of the rebellion against the Empire?" he asked excitedly. She too began to listen closely, curious as to what it was truly about.

"That's how we came to be in your service, sir," 3PO replied, "If you take my meaning, sir."

"Have you been in many battles?" Luke asked.

"Several, I think. Actually, there's not much to tell; I'm not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories. Well, not to make any of them interesting, anyway."

Meanwhile, Belle's work had led her to a particular spot below one of R2's panels; it looked as though something was jammed in there. She tried to dig her tool deep in so she could pry it out, despite clear noises of objection from R2.

"So were you on a star cruiser, or…" Luke continued, but he was interrupted by a flash of light beaming out from one of the lenses on R2. Belle leaped back in surprise to see a small shimmering blue woman on the floor, dressed in white robes and speaking to someone before looking around and crouching down on the floor to check on something. There was a flicker, and she was immediately returned to the first position, only to repeat the same motions again and again.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she pleaded, "you're my only hope. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi; you're my only hope…"

"What is THAT?" Belle asked.

A series of beeps and whistles formed R2'S reply.

"What is what?" C-3PO asked, "She asked you a question! What is _that_?"

The woman repeated her words and her actions once or twice before R2 gave the answer to C-3PO. "He says it's nothing, miss. Old data. Pay it no mind."

Luke, meanwhile, was transfixed by the vision before him. "Who is she? She's beautiful!" he said. Personally, Belle was more fascinated with the fact that there was a tiny blue woman made out of light standing in front of her.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure. I think she was a passenger on our last voyage; a person of some importance, I believe. Our captain was attached to…"

"Is there any more of this recording?" Luke interrupted.

R2 only replied with a warped squeal.

"Behave yourself, R2!" C-3PO reprimanded, "You're going to get us into trouble! It's alright, you can trust him! He's our new master!"

After some more unintelligible beeping and trilling from R2, C-3PO said, "He says he's the property of an 'Obi-Wan Kenobi', a resident of these parts, and that it's a private message for him. Quite frankly, sir, I don't know what he's talking about; our last master was Captain Antilles. But with all we've been through, this little R2 unit has become a bit eccentric."

R2 shot back with an annoyed buzzing.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Luke mused, and Belle could tell that there were wheels turning in his head. "I wonder if he means old Ben Kenobi."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know what he's talking about?" C-3P0 asked.

"Well, I don't know about anyone named _Obi-Wan_, but old Ben lives out on the Dune Sea," Luke replied, "He's kind of a strange old hermit."

"Well then," Belle replied, "If that's the case, then we should probably get this message to him, see what he knows about it. It sounds like she's in trouble."

"I dunno," Luke said, "He and Uncle Owen…well, let's just say they don't get along, that well. I don't think Owen would like it if I went out looking for him." Turning back to R2, he said, "I'd better play back the whole thing."

As soon as he moved in to touch a dial on the droid, R2 burst out with more beeps and boops. C-3PO translated, "He says the restraining bolt has short circuited his recording system. He suggests that if you remove the bolt, he might be able to play back the entire message."

For the first time, Belle noted a small grey block down on R2's body, and only now did she realize what it was for. Despite not knowing a thing about droids, she did feel rather suspicious about this information; up until now, the droid had been attempting to avoid answering Luke's questions, and only now did he offer a way to see the whole thing? There had to be an ulterior motivation….

Regardless of what she thought, Luke grabbed a nearby tool and wedged it beneath the bolt, saying, "I guess you're too small to run away on me if I take this off," he said, justifying his actions.

"I don't know, Luke," Belle said, "He _was _able to go down that whole flight of stairs…"

But her words were spoken in vain, for Luke went and pried off the bolt. With that, the blue vision disappeared, much to Luke's disappointment. "Wait a minute, where'd she go?" he demanded, "Play her back! Play back the entire message!"

All R2 did was give out a small beep.

"What message?" C-3PO asked, smacking the smaller droid on the head, "The one you've just been playing! The one you're carrying inside your rusty innards!"

The sound of Beru's voice, however, summoned both Belle and Luke from afar. "Be right there!" Luke shouted.

"I'm sorry, sir," C-3PO said, "He seems to be in a flutter."

Frustrated, Luke handed him the tool, and beckoned Belle to follow him. She did so, but all the while couldn't help but wonder about that 'message' that R2 had been playing, along with other questions that went unanswered. What a strange place she had fallen into…

1

Cybot Galactica Design Team Operations Manual.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle and Luke soon arrived at the dinner table; Owen and Beru were already there, eating their food and drinking a blue-colored liquid that reminded Belle somewhat of milk. As had been usual, there had been no prayers given, which at the moment suited her, though it did argue with her upbringing. It angered her about how the droids were being treated; Luke spoke of some kind of revolt occurring should droids be made fully aware of their status, and Belle would hardly be surprised if they did, considering the kind of treatment she had seen.

What was said next hardly helped her feel better; before he even sat down at the table, he said, "You know, I think that R2 unit we bought might have been stolen."

'Stolen'? 'Kidnapped' would be more appropriate in this scenario, Belle thought to herself.

"What makes you think that?" Owen asked.

"Well, me and Belle stumbled across a recording while we were cleaning him up," Luke said, "He says he belongs to someone named 'Obi-Wan Kenobi'."

At the mention of the name, Belle noticed Owen and Beru glance at each other cautiously before looking back down at their plates. They knew something…she could sense it somehow.

"Pardon me for asking," she said, "But do you know who that is?"

Owen replied with a gruff little moan, hardly looking up from his plate.

"Very well," Belle said, "Perhaps he is related to Ben in some way…we—I mean, someone should get into contact with him and—"

"That wizard's just a crazy old man," Owen declared, abruptly cutting her off. "Tomorrow, I want you," he said to Luke, "to take that R2 unit to Anchorhead and have its memory erased. That'll be the end of it; it belongs to us, now."

"Its memory erased?" Belle asked disbelievingly. Part of her wanted to know how that was possible, but a greater part of her felt more concerned about the fact that an intelligent creature was going to lose something very dear to it. "That's just a little extreme, don't you think?"  
"Yeah," Luke said, "What if this 'Obi-Wan' comes looking for it?"

"He won't," Owen said. "I don't think he even exists anymore. He died about the same time as your father."

"He knew my father?" Luke asked.

"I told you to forget it," Owen said, "Your only concern is to prepare those new droids for tomorrow. In the morning, I want them up on the South Ridge working on those condensers."

"Yes sir," Luke said quietly, and then added, "I think those new droids are going to work out, fine. In fact I've, um…been also thinking about our agreement, about staying on another season?"

Owen looked at him with a glance tinged with what could only be anxiety.

Luke went on. "And if these new droids DO work out, I want to transmit my application to the Academy THIS year."

"You mean the next semester before the harvest?" Owen asked.

"Sure! There's more than enough droids," Luke explained, "and you've got Belle, here, too."

Belle wasn't sure how to respond to this. She thoroughly acknowledged that, yes, she was a hired hand, but for some reason it felt like she was a droid, too.

"But harvest is when I need you the most!" Owen protested, "It's only one season more, and Belle isn't going to be around here for much longer, anyway."

Luke merely responded with a despondent moment of silence. Seeing this, Belle wondered how long he had been planning this proposition…and more so, she began to wonder why Owen seemed so keen on keeping him around. Now that she had taken the time to notice, she saw that Luke was right, what with all these droids around—not that she supported this whole 'droid labor' thing.

"This year, we'll be able to make enough at the harvest that I'll be able to hire more hands," Owen continued, "and then you'll be able to go to the academy next year. You must understand; I need you here, Luke."

"But it's a whole 'nother year!" Luke protested.

"It's only one more season."

"Yeah," Luke groaned, "That's what you said when Biggs and Tank left, and that's what you'll say when Belle leaves, too."

He then got up from the table and headed towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" Beru asked.

"Looks like I'm going nowhere," Luke answered as he walked off, "Those droids still need cleaning, anyway."

Belle soon found herself alone with the older couple in a thoroughly awkward situation. No one said a word for some time.

"I'm sorry you had to sit through that, Belle," Beru said at last.

"Oh no, it's alright," she replied, "It's none of my business anyway…" She wolfed down the last morsels on her plate as quickly as she could, and said, "Pardon me, and thank you for the meal," before standing up and walking out of the dining hall.

However, before she had gone for more than twenty paces, she overheard Beru and Owen speaking.

"Owen, he can't stay here forever," Beru's soft voice lilted in the distance, "Most of his friends have gone! It means so much to him."

"I'll make it up to him next year," Owen's voice replied, "I promise."

It didn't take much to detect some half-hearted insincerity in that promise.

"Luke's just not a farmer, Owen," Beru said, "He has too much of his father in him."

"That's what I'm afraid of," the older man admitted.

Before she could be spotted and quite possibly berated, Belle decided it would be best if she hurried along. She went along to the hallway back to her bedroom, and took a moment to lean against the wall and mull things over for a bit.

She had work to do, that much was true. However, the last bit of exchange alerted some curiosity in her, particularly about Luke's father…All Luke had said of him was that he had been a navigator on a spice freighter, but that was what, not who. Who was that man of whom Luke had inherited so much of his personality from? What kind of person was he like? Was it her place to ask? Given how much Owen had been reluctant as to so much as discuss an old associate of Luke's father, she had the feeling that there existed at least some degree of disagreement between the two. Perhaps it had been a consequence of a choice of lifestyles…? But then again, these were personal matters after all, and she was only a temporary hand here, a stranger who only now was beginning to get a handle on the ways of this world. She deduced that, were she to ask Owen and Beru directly, they might wave over the whole matter entirely as they did with the mysterious person called Obi-Wan…or worse, fire her for questioning the status quo in a place where she was but a visitor. Given her situation, that could not be afforded.

* * *

Sooner than she anticipated, the afternoon turned to evening, and the evening slowly began turning to night. Belle had spent the last remaining hours of the day taking a rest and thinking things over; in the end, her thoughts turned from the character of the Senior Skywalker to how things were going on back home. Even now, she turned the white gem over through her fingers as she lay in bed, trying to catch glimpses of some other world she didn't know about.

She thought about Papa; how did he fare without her? The last time she saw him, he had been dragged out of a prison cell and carted away in a legged carriage. But did he arrive at home safely? Was he able to take care of himself well enough? The loss of her mother had been hard enough on him…enough to make him pack things up and move to the countryside. The responsibility of taking care of the day-to-day business of the farm mostly fell upon Belle's shoulders, especially with her father's advancing age. Could he take care of himself?

These thoughts had been on her mind ever since she had become a permanent guest at the castle, and thus were nothing new, save for the increased amount of distance.

Then the thought of the Beast came to her mind; what of him? The thought of him tearing apart the countryside in search of her filled her with dread…and yet, the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that he would do that. True, she would've assumed he'd do that the first couple of months into her stay, but ever since that night with the wolves, he had slowly begun to change, becoming more civil, more easy-going, and more gentle…was that really because of her mere presence in his secluded world?

Now that that had become a possibility, so did his rampaging through the countryside after her.

She heard steps coming down the corridor, and suddenly she remembered her duty. Reacting to the thought of being caught slacking off, she hurried off of the bed and sauntered her way back to the garage—only to run into Luke, who looked just as panicked as she did, if not more so.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"That R2 unit," he said, "C-3PO said it ran off! I can't find him anywhere!"

For a moment, Belle shared in his distress—only to have it replaced with something of a smug look.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Did you really expect anything else?" she asked.

C-3PO came up from behind him. "I'm so sorry, sir! The way he kept babbling on about his 'mission', I really should have done something!"

"Oh, come on and help me find him," he said bitterly, "He can't have gone far."

Belle followed along, but inside, she couldn't help but cheer for the little droid, and hoped that his flight for freedom wouldn't be in vain. It did surprise her, however, how swiftly and stealthily R2 had managed to escape them all; his design didn't seem to take that into account.

They followed Luke out into the open desert, where the growing absence of the suns had an immediate, chilling effect on the air. Luke pulled out a pair of binoculars and peered around the dark, barren landscape surrounding the homestead.

Coming up from behind them, C-3PO observed, "That R2 unit has always been a problem. These astro droids are getting quite out of hand; even I can't understand their logic at times."

"How could I be so stupid?" Luke questioned as he put down the binoculars, "He's nowhere in sight. Blast it!"

"Pardon me, sir, but couldn't we go after him?" C-3PO asked.

"It's too dangerous with all the Sand People around. We'll have to wait until morning."

Suddenly, Uncle Owen's voice called out from below. "LUKE! I'm shutting the power down!"

"Alright, we'll be there in a few minutes!" Luke called back, and then said, "Boy, am I going to get it. You know, that little droid's going to cost me a lot of trouble."

"Oh, he excels at that, sir." C-3PO replied.

"I hope you have some sort of tactical scheme to reacquire your droid without arousing your legal guardian's suspicion," Belle stated.

Luke just gave her a funny look.

Sighing, Belle said, "Do you have a plan?"

"Well, of course I've got a plan!" Luke said, "I'll go and look for him early in the morning, but I need you to stay here. If they ask, you tell Owen and Beru that I had some things to do before work, and that I took the droids with me."

"You want me to lie to them?" she said incredulously.

"R2 can't have gone too far," Luke rationalized, "I'll be back before too long, probably before you even have to say anything!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to lose my wage because I was part of some conspiracy over something that wasn't my fault!" she protested.

"Just do this for me this one time," he asked, "I'll never ask you to do something like this again. I promise!"  
Personally, she felt more sympathy for the escaped droid and more inclination to stay out of this mess than she did to help Luke out with this.

And yet…

"Alright, fine," she sighed as they returned back inside, "But you owe me for this."

* * *

The next day came hot and dry as it always did, but Luke could not be found, as Belle had expected. As she had further come to expect, Beru, and eventually Owen, came asking for him, and she gave them the answer Luke had told her to give them…and it grieved her inside to have to lie to them. Perhaps this would be a small thing in the long run, though; besides, she could probably get back at him for this by telling the truth on the day she left this place for the spaceport. The thought of that day alone prompted her to lightly tap the white jewel safe in her pocket.

What she didn't expect, however, was how long Luke would take to get back; right up until midday she kept awaiting their return, and with each passing hour her suspicion that R2 had gotten too far away to track was strengthened.

Luke's prolonged absence was not lost on Owen, as he repeatedly grumbled about Luke taking his time and the South Ridge needing attending. While they were eating lunch, it finally came to a head. "Blasted kid must have gotten distracted somewhere in Anchorhead, or something. Belle," he said to her, "the vaporators on the South Ridge are not going to maintain themselves."

"I understand, _monsieur_," she said.

"You think you can handle the job by yourself?" he asked.

"I believe so," she answered.

"Very good," he said.

With that, she finished her lunch, slipped on her work-clothes, and grabbed the toolbox Luke used from the garage. While there, she noted the absence of one of the vehicles, the one that lacked any wheels or legs and yet hovered effortlessly above the ground. A vehicle that moved without the aid of a horse was one thing, but one that moved without wheels was quite another; she would have loved to have seen it in action (she couldn't imagine how Papa would've responded), but Luke and C3P0 had left by the time she had awoken.

Her business finished there, she headed out of the pit (with a water container and a warning from Beru to watch out for 'wamp rats'), heading in a vaguely south direction—she felt grateful that the suns rose from east to west like the sun did back home. The bright sunlight immediately caused her to slip on the protective goggles she had been provided, but she hadn't been out in the sun for more than five minutes before the sweltering heat provoked her skin into sweating torrents down her skin. Only three days, and yet she still hadn't gotten used to this yet—on the bright side, she wouldn't have to deal with sunburns thanks to the loose, yet protective sleeves.

Above all this, she had to wonder: where on this planet were Luke and the droids? Had this been a simple retrieval effort, they would have been back a long time ago. It seemed that Owen had the right idea; perhaps he was delayed by something, but what? She knew for a fact that it couldn't have been some new gadget…then she remembered all the talk about Sand People…

She lifted her eyes off of the ground for a moment to check on her surroundings and make sure she was headed in the right direction—and then, in the distance, she spotted something moving. A tiny, light grey speck on the horizon, it floated above the earth effortlessly…was it a mirage produced by the desert heat?

Given what she had seen thus far, she knew better than to brush it off as such. Grabbing the binoculars, she peered through and searched for the object in question, accidentally discovering a switch on the device that allowed her to 'zoom' in or out (it being the only word she could think of to describe it). At last, she found it in her view; it seemed to her like some sort of floating skiff covered in thick iron plating, with a strange device bearing twin tubes on the rear. Sitting inside were several figures clad in white; were they droids, perhaps? Their heads, certainly unlike anything she had seen certainly suggested so; at the very least, in an abstract sort of way, reminded her of a skull…however, even from here, she could see black in the joints between the white armor. She realized that these figures moved too flexibly to be droids; these were definitely people, soldiers most likely, judging by the jet-black musket-like weapons they carried.

And their vessel was coming straight in her direction, coming in closer and closer with each second that flew by.

Almost immediately Belle sensed something wrong about this. She couldn't put it into words, though…

Deciding that it would be the best course of action, Belle abandoned her task with the vaporators and ran in the opposite direction, back towards the little white dome as fast as her two feet could carry her across the dry ground. She got there sooner than she estimated, calling out for Owen and Beru as she sprinted down the stairs towards them.

"What is it, dear?" Beru asked, "Is it Sand People?"

"I don't know," she answered between breaths, "They're in a vehicle…and wore white armor…they're coming this way!"

"Are you sure?" Owen asked.

She nodded vigorously, and followed him up the stairs as he pulled out his own binoculars for him to peer through. As he gazed out from the doorway, his expression changed from surprise to something between terror and anger. "Stormtroopers," he growled, "Blast it! What do they want?"

Beru drew her close. "Now listen," she said to her, "You get inside and stay hidden while we handle this; we'll let you know when it's okay to come out."

"Why?" she asked.

"There's no telling what they want," she explained, "For all we know, it's nothing good. Now go, _go_!"

Heeding her words, Belle headed down the dark staircase. She nearly went further inside, but something stopped her…and she realized what it was.

She ducked behind a corner and cocked her ear towards the door. She had to know what would follow next.

For a few minutes, nothing happened; only the occasional gust of wind blowing sand and dust against the dome, along with the constant hum of the gadgets around her pervaded. No human voice uttered a word.

Then, slowly but surely, a soft thrumming noise became audible. Louder and louder it grew, until a thick cloud of dust blew in from the open doorway alongside a monotonous roar, blended with dozens of other small noises.

Heavy boots crashed upon the soil, grinding it beneath their sole as they moved forward.

"What do you want?" Owen called out.

"Sir," a man's voice said, though it came through as buzzy and filled with a small amount of static. She could only assume it was the leader of the stormtroopers. "We're going to have to ask you to hand over two droids."

Belle didn't like the tone of this man at all; though clearly trained to speak with a militaristic rigidity, he spoke with a commanding and condescending air. It reminded her too much of a certain suitor back home in the village…though with less flaunt.

"Excuse me?" Owen asked, "I don't understand; what droids are you talking about?"

"Yesterday, you came into the possession of two droids, a protocol droid and an astromech, from a tribe of Jawas," the stormtrooper said, "Is that correct?"

From her hiding place, Belle quickly deduced that they were referring to R2-D2 and C-3P0. She remembered discussion of an Empire, of a Rebellion, and of C-3PO's reporting of a 'secret mission' of some sort…

"Assuming you're right," Owen countered, "What do you want with them?"

"They're stolen Imperial property. Hand over the droids, immediately—as well as the girl."

Belle's heart within her nearly froze over.

"What girl?" Owen asked.

"A wanted criminal, a traitor to the Empire," the stormtrooper explained, "Hand her over along with the droids."

Belle didn't feel so much concern over the slander as she did about the fact that these stormtroopers knew that she so much as existed. How could that be possible? But then she thought of Owen and Beru; would they believe what this man said? More so than before, she listened closely to what would follow next, fearing for her life…

"Well, I'm sorry, sir," Owen's voice came through, "But I'm pretty sure there's no Imperial droids or criminals here."

She sighed in relief.

But then the stormtrooper commanded, "Step aside; we're searching the place."

"Over my dead body," Owen countered angrily, "You've no right to do this, not out here."

"We're under orders from the Imperial Senate. Now _stand aside_."

"NO."

A pause broke out between them. Belle could only imagine them staring each other in the eye, trying to break the other's will…

"What's your name, civilian?" the trooper asked.

"Owen Lars. What is it to you?"

"Stay where you are, for a moment."

The boots crunched away for a short distance, and Belle wondered what changed. Perhaps this man was deliberating what to do, but why?

She heard hushed voices, but not of Beru or Owen; they were of the lead stormtrooper, discussing something with someone.

Suddenly the voices stopped, and the crunching boots returned, along with several more. She heard sounds of a struggle from up above.

"Owen Lars," the stormtrooper's voice came in, "By the authority of Lord Vader, you are charged with interfering with an Imperial investigation, and with high treason to the Empire. You have been sentenced to immediate execution."

What? NO! Was this because of her! No, this wasn't right! She had to go up there and save them; she didn't care what happened to her, so long as these good people lived!

She started to get up onto her feet so that she could run up the stairs and turn herself in—

Suddenly, two high-pitched blasts, along with red bursts of light, deafened her as they echoed down the stairway.

Inside of her erupted a terrible, heartbroken scream at what happened, though no voice uttered it. How could she have let them die for her…and for Luke? How could she have simply stood by and let this happen?

"Alright, torch the bodies and search the place," the lead stormtrooper commanded.

With her own survival suddenly at stake, Belle turned and sprinted for somewhere, anywhere, for her to hide in; she would not let the Lars' sacrifice be in vain.

Suddenly, she found it; there, in the wall, stood a grate, that stood slightly ajar into a ventilation shaft. Better yet, it looked as though she could fit in it.

Having no time to question whether or not she could, she crawled in and tucked in as much of herself as she could, closing the grate behind her right as the stormtroopers filed in brandishing their black weapons. They only briefly scanned the room before moving on, unaware of the fact that a human being had just slipped under their very noses. But still, she didn't dare to relax; her life depended on it.

She heard the sound of flames bursting, and worse, of something burning.

Her stay behind the grate door seemed to last too long for an eternity—a terrifying, agonizing eternity.

Before she knew it, however, the stormtroopers marched back on through and up the stairs, leaving her alone again.

"There's no one else here, sir," one of the troopers reported, "The place is empty."

"Alright then," the commanding officer said, "Blast the place as we're taking off. Make it look like a Tusken Raider attack."

"Just like what we did with the Jawas?"

"That's right, soldier, now get moving."

After several minutes, a couple of blasts ruptured the air and sent tremors shivering through the earth. Smoke began to billow through the room, along with the heat of fire.

Still, Belle didn't move until she heard the roar of their transport die away into the distance.

By the time that had happened, the smoke became dark as it flooded the room and stung her eyes, and the choke of the fumes unbearable, forcing her to abandon her hiding place at long last and charge up the stairs into the open. Thankfully, no squadron of troopers was there to greet her. Once she had gotten out of the line of smoke and as far away as she could, she collapsed on to the ground, coughing out the smoke that had wormed its way into her lungs.

After a few moments, she found she could breathe easier. She turned around to look at the black pillars of smoke rising from the homestead she had just escaped…and found, at the very bottom of the doors, the bodies of the Lars', cleaned of bone by flame itself.

From there, she turned burst into tears, finally freeing a cry of despair from her lips.

How long did she lie on the baked earth, crying her eyes out? She didn't know, nor did she care. All she knew was that two people had lied in the face of these powerful men and died, all on her behalf. Okay, well that wasn't entirely true; after all, they did have Luke to protect, but why her as well? He was practically their son; she was just a hired hand, and for all they knew, she could've been a wanted criminal…so why? Why?

She heard something whine over the earth over the roar of the flames and the crackling of the smoke, and heard shoes make contact with the soil.

"Uncle Owen? Aunt Beru?" Luke's voice shouted out, "Belle?"

With great difficulty, she pulled herself up and around to see Luke, his speeder behind him, stare in shock at the destruction before him. Seeing her on the ground, he rushed forward to help her up.

"Luke, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, "They just came and…and…" she couldn't bring herself to speak any more.

He didn't cry, but looking up at him, he could see the pain in her eyes.

They sat together for some time, watching the smoke rise into the air. From out of the grief, though, Belle felt an anger rising within her; anger at the stormtroopers for carrying out this deed, anger at this 'Lord Vader' for giving the order, and most of all, anger at herself for not having done anything. She had stood back and let them take the fall for her. How could she?

Never again, she swore within herself. No one will die for me ever again.


End file.
